Slipstream
Relaxing together, in bed,
Fitting side to side, thigh to thigh, waist to buttocks,
Sigh to sigh, sighing sighs of mild passion,
I and you, Linda,
Beautiful, lyrical muse of my newly youthful years,
Appropriate time's wings, climb so high,
Overcoming earthly inertia, tick-tock gravity,
Wresting flight from mortality's predestined direction,
That we lose all sense of silence — our sighs' origin.
Ours is too soaringly euphoric a morning
To think such a fantasy awake.
For now, our wings become our dreams' slipstream.
04/23/11 - (1)
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